


A Long Night

by ZoeLinkingal



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Drama & Romance, Flashbacks, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Sadness & Sorrow, Thranduil's memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3171299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeLinkingal/pseuds/ZoeLinkingal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been three years since Thorin Oakenshield died in the Battle of the Five Armies. The Elvenking leaves his fortress every year and visits the tomb of Thorin since then, with a little help from Master Bilbo Baggins.</p><p>This year, King Thranduil reminisces his fond memories with Thorin Oakenshield when he was still just a Dwarven Prince. It all began on that fateful day in TA 2769, when the white gems of Lasgalen was denied from the Elvenking, a year before Smaug took Erebor.</p><p>Inspired by this piece of art: http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/008/b/4/elven_grief_by_candra-d5qv4l3.jpg</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into the Abyss of the Dragon

**[TA 2944](http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Timeline_of_Arda) - Three Years after the Battle of the Five Armies**

It was the dark of night with a full moon shining brightly, illuminating the forest of Mirkwood and the serene lake that reached the shores of Erebor.

King Thranduil strips himself of his silver gown and places his crown carelessly on his bed. He changed out of his boots into something more suitable for hikes on stony ground. He then dons a golden robe of scale armor and fastened his sword belt to his hips, securing the lower half of the robe armor from flowing too noisily in the tough winds of the abyss.

He then clad his shoulders with slotted plates, much like the ones he wore during the battle. He had not worn these unless for his annual visits to the tomb. They were his memories and much like his consciousness, the slotted plates were worn out and full of scars.

He retrieves a clean set of raven black hooded robes from an opened chest in front of his velvet bed. King Thranduil wears them with a heavy heart and a sigh. He has to conceal himself in his own kingdom on this night every year.

He opens the panes of the windows and gently lowers himself down the back of his private chambers with a rope already prepared. He abseils the rugged walls of the cavern, a few floors below the throne level.

There were always guards patrolling no matter the time of night and Thranduil has to be careful not to be spotted. There was an alley in front of him with two guards but as timed, they were changing shifts. Thranduil used this moment to hurry down the alley and out an old unused gate as he officially stepped out of his fortress.

It was still several meters of hike in front of him if he wants to make it to the river to meet with his elf-friend.

He follows the steep rocky path from the used gate into the back half of the Mirkwood forest. He could smell the freshwater, it was so very near now. He continued hiking through the trees before he came to a stop.

King Thranduil made it out of the forest and arrived in a clearing, the sound of water now clear. He walks towards the boat and kicks it lightly, anxious and eyes wandering.

Bilbo wakes with a jolt as he had been dozing off, waiting for the Elvenking to arrive. "Oh, oh! Hurry now." He extends a hand to the King and Thranduil takes it and hops in as they sailed for the Lonely Mountain.

 _'The name is fitting._ ' Thranduil thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Hobbit fanfiction so please be kind to me :).
> 
> This will be multi-chaptered, maybe 3 or 4, I'm not sure. I am still planning the arrival of Thranduil on Erebor and the tomb scene (first half of chapter 2). I have already written the second half of chapter 2, which would continue from this extended scene in 'The Hobbit - The Unexpected Journey' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B80WZ-IXT3w It is the recollection chapter where Thranduil leaves after paying homage to Thror and Thorin is displeased with his grandfather so he catches up to Thranduil, wanting to explain himself. Than things happen and Thorin goes back to Mirkwood with Thranduil ;).
> 
> There will be sadness and hotness but the theme of this story is sorrow and a lot of "Things that could have been". You might need tissues but yea, I hope I do not disappoint because the character of Thranduil to me is pretty difficult to write in a sex or soft scene but still have him stay in character. He's very complicated.


	2. First and Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tomb door has not opened for the Elvenking since it's making three years ago. But this night, it will be different.

**[TA 2944](http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Timeline_of_Arda) - Three Years after the Battle of the Five Armies **

Master Bilbo anchors the boat and the Elvenking steps onto the stony grounds of the Lonely Mountain.

His eyes search for the familiar but rusted door of iron and he found it.

It was just an old door, nothing fancy, except for the words, carved deeply and sadly:

**Tomb of Thorin II**   
**Our Greatest King**

The Elvenking raises his hands and touched the cold iron door, his cold fingers tracing over the words, "Thorin..." he whispers and the winds carried his words and he hoped they went to its intended recipient.

If the Elvenking had not cried when he sent his son into the world, nobody would doubt that he would not cry over the death of one dwarf. But he did cry. Every year on this very night, Thranduil would stand in front of this door, wearing his heart on his sleeve. If the Elvenking could sell his soul to bring back the true King under the Mountain, he would.

Thranduil shuts his eyes and balls his hands into a fist, lightly hitting the iron door, as if knocking and hoping that someone alive would answer and untie his heart. Droplets of tears rolled down his eyes and ragged breathes came out of his mouth as he hit the iron door harder and harder, silently screaming in his heart for it to open.

But the door would not. It has never opened for him since the beginning of its time three years ago.

It would be an understatement to say that the whole universe was against the Elvenking when Thorin Oakenshield died. The Dwarves had officially ended their alliance with the Elves soon after the battle had its fair share of blood shed. They had buried their King in this tomb and sealed it with a cold iron door, forbidding anyone who were not their kind from entering.

In the distance, Bilbo Baggins tore his eyes away from the tragic sight. He has seen it for three years too many. And he too, thought about Thorin Oakenshield in his own way.

The Elvenking tried to steady himself but his legs would not support him any longer. He slid down, fist still on the door and tears still falling, and knelt in front of the tomb.

For years he had been asking the same question with no one to give him an answer. Was it his fault that Thorin died? It sure felt that way. Even Prince Legolas had left home with that notion and never turned back. It was indeed very hard to reject such a prospect; when the whole world has forced it upon you and deemed it as undeniable truth.

A gust of wind blew against the Elvenking and stung his eyes. He blinked and coughed as he rose himself up, suddenly aware of a sinister presence somewhere around him. He slowly turns and could still see the boat in the background, Master Bilbo probably asleep in it. A flutter of wings, loud as it may be, did not shock the Elvenking but instead, brought relief to his heart. The presence may have been his imagination, it was the dead of night, after all. No one would be out here except for them two.

A loud heave could be heard to his left as he turned back to the iron door.

It had moved and it opened!

Thranduil stared with wide eyes and mouth open, suddenly all too focused in his surroundings but he could not stop the hope in his chest from arising. He could finally be close with the Dwarven King!

The Elvenking waved his hands to fan off the mist in the tomb, a sign that no one has been inside here for the last three years. A sort of sadness entered his being as he thought of that. There was a bright light, elevated only a few feet off the ground not too far from him. The Elvenking stepped forward cautiously, only to be met with the unmistakable tomb of Thorin Oakenshield. It was a simple grey stone tomb with gold trimmings. The light was the Arkenstone fixed upon the middle of the tomb.

Thranduil breathed out a sight of relieve, his mind not even questioning why the door had opened for him. The fact that it did, was enough. He reached out and touched the tomb with his right hand. It was old, dusty and cold. A single, perfect tear rolled down his eye as he spoke softly,

"Do you know.... How long I've waited for this day, my beloved?"

Thranduil walked to the other end of the tomb and sat himself down beside where Thorin's head would lay. One leg was sprawled in front while another was curled up as he rested an arm on the knee, and the other hand fiddling with his sword belt. He glanced at his sword, it's memories replaying themselves in his head. He hit his head lightly against the side of the tomb to rid it of those memories for the moment. No, those were not the ones he wanted to remember.

Thranduil breathed out lightly, he thought of how foolish he must be to speak to a tomb, expecting a reply when there is none. He chuckled lightly to himself, no one was here to witness the unsightly condition of the great Elvenking now. It was his pride that caused the mess, wasn't it?

He let down his head, staring blankly at his sword belt and mumbled, "Could... Could things have been different, Thorin...?"

Thranduil was not sobbing but the sadness and sorrow that were locked up in him for thousands of years had set themselves free without his leave. His tears came down silently and uncontrollably, his heart was racing down a slope and he had no way of stopping now.

"Do.. Do you remember-" Thranduil tried to wipe his tears away as he choked on his breath. "..remember that day...-" He choked again and tried to cough his tears away. "..that day.... You were so innocent....." Thranduil looked up at the cavernous ceilings as his memories took him back to the day that King Thror divined his ascension.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
. .... . . Several years before the Battle of the Five Armies . . ...

((A/N: Before you read this part, please watch [this extended scene from The Unexpected Journey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B80WZ-IXT3w) if you haven't, as this part continues after Thranduil walks out in the video.))

 

**[TA 2769](http://lotr.wikia.com/wiki/Timeline_of_Arda) - One year before Smaug would take Erebor and drive the dwarves into exile  
**

 

"Well, now that Lord pretty is out, **COURT DISMISSED!!!** " Thror bellowed as he got down from his throne, laughing with his attendants.

His grandson, Thorin, rushed to stop him from retreating into the feasting halls. With one arm grabbing the King, " **Grandfather!** " Thorin shouts. Thror turns and looks at the younger dwarf with stern eyes. "The agreement was-" Thorin was cut short as King Thror shrugs off his hold.

"I do not care what the agreement was! I am not giving that self-important elf Lord shit!" With that, Thror marches out the back of the throne room to join the lunch feast with his people.

Thorin frowns and sighs, what would become of the relations between the dwarves and the elves should this day end sourly for the Elvenking? The days upon them would surely be astringent!

Thorin looks back to the front gates of the throne room. The doors were closing soon and he could see the dwindling figures of the Elvenking and his guards as they got on their mounts. "Shit." Thorin whispered and snapped himself out of his hesitation, _'There is nothing to lose, is there?'_ ' he thought as he chased after the elves.

"Wait!!" He shouted, a nervous arm out, unsure if the command was for the door guards or for the Elvenking's company.

The door guards, one on each side, looked at each other hesitantly before allowing the Prince to leave as they closed the doors behind him. Thranduil heard the shouts of a familiar voice and slows his elk. The four guards slowed their horses and cleared a way as the Elvenking, slowly and gracefully, turned his mount to face a red faced Thorin Oakenshield.

The dwarven Prince slows his run as he bends over, breathing heavily. "You're... fast...!" He pants.

Thranduil looks down at the Prince, amused but he kept a straight face,' _Interesting.._ ' he thought to himself.

Thorin sucks in a deep breath and slowly rises to his full height. He squinted as he looked to the silverblonde haired King, seated high and dignified on the colossal elk. " _Gods..._ " Thorin blurted out unknowingly. He mentally slapped himself for that.

A minuscule smile graced the lips of King Thranduil before he cleared his throat, "What is it that you seek, Thorin Oakenshield?" The Elvenking questioned, with an air of unmistakable superiority.

Thorin willed himself not to roll his eyes back to the Mountain, least the elves take offense. At his full height, Thorin only stood a head and a half shorter than the Elvenking, if they were to stand shoulder to shoulder. Thorin huffs, "Thra-" he looks cautiously at the guards, their hands at the ready. "King..." He begins unwillingly, "...Thranduil. I have come to apologise for the dishonourable decision of my grandfather." Thorin swallowed as the Elvenking forwarded the elk a few inches towards the Prince. Thorin could have sworn even the elk was angry. "We.. We mean you no-" Thranduil held up his hand to halt the Prince's speech.

The Elvenking spoke slowly, a voice like rumbling thunder, "That is enough, Dwarven Prince." Thranduil lowers his hand and turns the mount away from the Prince. The Elvenking stares into the far forest where a battalion was waiting, "I do not need the cheap words of an old fool, who sends a youngling to do his dirty work." Thranduil turns back swiftly, startling Thorin and even his elven company as their horses stepped back. "I applaud your bravery.." King Thranduil slightly bows his head in respect and Thorin smiles. "But you are as green as..." Thorin stops smiling.

The thundering of hooves could be heard from behind the King as Legolas emerges from the forest, alone. "... him."

The Elvenprince slows to a halt, "Father, is there a problem?" He questions as he stops a meter away from the patriarch.

King Thranduil lets out a small sigh and softens his features, he turns the elk to face his son, smiling lightly, "No, not at all."

Legolas shifts his horse to the sides and narrowed his eyes at the sight of the Dwarven Prince in his large armour. He glances back at his father questioningly.

King Thranduil locks eyes with his son and purses his lips before giving the command for Legolas to ready a free horse from the battalion. "Our friend is coming with us."

Prince Legolas pouts slightly and nodded, "Alright." and rode back into the forest. "I am...?" Thorin states more than asks.

The Elvenking did not look back but he merely nodded as Legolas rode back with a free horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the extended scene, I thought that, since Thorin was not affected by Dragon sickness yet, that he would rise to be a great king and leader for his men later on and he did looked quite concern and stared at Thranduil as he walked out, it should be natural of him to want to be honorable. Also, as Prince, I want to write him as more rash than the King he became, as he was younger.
> 
> Of course, if they had relations (in my story) I would have to explain the part in canon where Thranduil brought his whole army to say "Nope!" when Smaug took over the Lonely Mountain. I will be working on that, though I am actually writing the sexual scene between them as of now.
> 
> Please do leave some comments and tell me if Thranduil or Thorin are in/out of character and stuff. Thanks!


	3. The Web is Spun, The Prey Comes and Long Gone is the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, where the wise words of young Thorin Oakenshield has led him.

**TA 2769**

 

 

Prince Legolas had ordered Tauriel to lead the 500 strong battalion back to Mirkwood prior to riding back with the free horse as he knew his father would not want a Prince from another race to be alerted.

The trip back to Mirkwood's palace was not all that long considering they were only a company of seven. They were now navigating the forest and they could hear the gushing river from the Woodland realm's falls. They were near and the sun was setting.

Thorin had never traveled too far out of Erebor so to come into Mirkwood was a treat he appreciated from the Elvenking. Though, he was perplexed by why he, a Prince of the dwarf race, could be here right now. This place was just something short of enemy territory. However, instead of immense fear settling in his heart, he actually felt ecstatic and thrilled. What was he going to do here? Would he be given a chance to explore the Elven realm? How about food? Well they aren't enemies, not yet,  _right..._? That last thought unsettled him but he tried to cast it aside. Surely Thranduil wasn't a bully.

The Elves may be a proud and vigilant race but Thorin has not heard of them being bullies. Though, his grandfather is always complaining on how supercilious the Elvenking is. On that note, Thorin can't help but agree. Can't Thranduil just ride a horse like everyone else? He chuckled to himself but cleared his throat to mask it. He smiled gleefully to the guards who looked at him questioningly.

The sound of water was now evidently boisterous. The company of seven arrived at the bridge, rangers ran out from the large palace door, Thorin presumed they were here to tend the mounts.

Sure enough, Thranduil, Legolas and the guards got down from their mounts. Thorin did the same and the rangers hurriedly led the horses and elk away. The spanned the entire width of the river. Thorin was amazed, he had not see such clear racing waters in his short 23 years. He was mesmerized by the sight. The sun was setting over the horizon on his left, the rushing water raced down the river, as though carrying whatever remains of the sun down to shorelines, bringing with it a gentle but refreshing breeze. The waters even has a different scent. Not of iron and fire, but of organic and raw magic. He guesses that the waters have healing properties but he doesn't ask it. Nor does he realize that Thranduil and the guards were already in the palace, preparing for last orders, dinners and night shifts.

Legolas had half a mind to ask the Dwarven Prince to hurry along but one look at the princeling's peaceful face compelled him to hold his tongue. It has been almost 800 years since he had seen such a peaceful expression. This princeling does not know war, Legolas was sure. But, a Prince he is still, however young and Legolas should exercise diplomacy. So, he chooses his words carefully, the diplomatic teachings of his father still fresh.

He stepped closer to the Prince, slightly amazed by how tall for a dwarf he was, they were standing shoulder to shoulder, with Legolas half a head taller. "How are you finding this place, Prince?" he chances, feeling slightly awkward.

Thorin was shocked by the sudden voice, he turns towards the palace, only to see Legolas there. He breathes in the aroma of nature and smiles, "Right now, it's good!"

Legolas nodded a few and then invited the Dwarven Prince into the palace.

.

.

.

Legolas led the young Prince into a private bath chamber, adorned with flowers and an open spring in the middle of the room. "The journey has been short but the day has been eventful. Please, do bath and refresh yourself." He said cordially. "It would be about two hours before dinner."

Thorin was not used to such gentle treatment as his own men were always shouting and banging tables, he hardly had any quiet time to himself. He did not know how to react except to grin and say 'Okay.'

Legolas took his leave shortly after. The bath chamber was small but tidy, it looked like it was for one or two persons at the most. Thorin stripped out of his armor and placed them in a basin as gently as he could, he did not want the guards outside to rush in. Besides, it would be rude and impolite of him to cause a ruckus. He has to curb his mountain habits, at least for tonight.

Two hours of nothing was boring so Thorin decided to give his armor a quick wash and toss his dirty garments into a separate basket. He would take care of those later, his chain mail would dry faster than cloth would. He also saw there were freshly prepared garments and a satin breech sitting on a round chair, obviously for him.

Thorin eased himself into the warm waters and his muscles almost immediately relaxed. He was, at this time, contented.

.

.

.

Dinner was not excessive like Thorin expected back in Erebor. He was now sitting with the Elvenking and Legolas in what seems like a common room. It was well decorated and furnished. It was very different from the long halls in Erebor, where food wastage was common. Here, the food came in when they were done with some.

The spread were these: There were platefuls of greens, yellow and purple leaves. Baskets of breads in different cuts, trays of roasted meat (Thorin could not guess what meat they were, but they were good.) and small bowls of fresh fruits and berries. Wine was abundant as well, but too strong for Thorin's taste so he opted for juice instead. How was he in such a blissful situation, he still did not know.

When the three were done with their meal, the plates were cleared and fresh goblets replaced the used ones. However, the dinner wasn't quite done yet. A large bowl of white grapes was placed in the middle and then they were left alone for the night.

Even Thorin knew white grapes were a rare sight in these areas. Vines do not grow well in the rugged terrain of the Mountain or the woods, the Dwarven Prince reckon that there has to be a private vine yard somewhere, growing such numbers as these.

Adding to that surprise, Thranduil spoke for the first time since the trip back. He gestured to the large bowl, "Please, try some." When did the supercilious Elvenking become so courteous?!

Legolas could only smile cheekily as he eyed Thorin's awestruck expression. He cleared his throat and reached for a clean plate, placing some white grapes and sliding it in front of Thorin to dispel whatever spell Thorin might be under. He did the same for his father and then for himself.

It was Legolas who, daringly, broke the silence. "My father may seem unfriendly at first," He paused and popped a white grape into his mouth, speaking while chewing, "But once you endure, he will be fair."

Thranduil swallowed his grape slowly, calculating his next move. He settled for pulling Legolas' fruit plate towards himself, "How rude to talk to a guest with food still in your mouth." He scolded facetiously.

Legolas took the plate back and laughed heartily, the tension in the room immediately dispelled and Thorin felt comfortable enough to speak his mind.

He coughed slightly, drawing their attention. "Thank you for your hospitality, Elvenking. Surely I am unfit of this by reason of my grandfather's dishonor. I... I..." Thorin could not continue. He sighed and looked down at his plate, feeling inadequate of such admirable treatment and utterly ashamed of his house. "I... don't know what to say... Truly, truly, sorry... I know that's not enough but-" Legolas cleared his throat to stop Thorin from rambling, least he promises something he can't fulfill.

Thranduil straightens himself, his countenance soft and forgiving, "It is not your fault, I can see that much." Thranduil was upset that he was not able to obtain the heirloom of his late wife but there was no reason to pin the blame on this innocent princeling. "I would very much like to shed some Dwarven blood.... But there is nothing you can do, now, young Prince."

Thorin's breath caught in his throat, afraid for his people, he hastily said, "Would you-"

Thranduil held up a finger, "I shall be delirious and stripped of my title as King before I march for stone."

Thorin relaxes but his sense of honor did not subside, "Surely, there has to be some way..." He pondered for awhile and a bright idea came to mind, "You could trade me for your family's heirloom. As a hostage!" the words came out, unfiltered by rationality.

Legolas frowned and frowned hard he did. His head shot towards his father,  _'No..! You wouldn't..._ ' he thought and tried very hard to communicate his thought silently to his father.  _'Please, father...!'_

Thranduil popped a grape and swallowed, then corked his head to one side, "You will throw yourself into the fray and for what? The contemptible words of your devious relative?"

The words were sharp to Thorin's ears and it hurt. But, there was truth in it and he could not let his weakness show. He was a Prince after all! He grit his teeth and summoned his courage from within,

_**"If I am to reign, then long shall I be under siege of my enemies before I let my kingdom fall by reneger!"** _


	4. Tidings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well.... I have no summary for this :P

**TA 2769**

 

While Thorin ambles off to a prepared room, Legolas strides heatedly behind his father, following impromptu into the Elvenking's royal chambers.

It was a well decorated and furnished room, a spacious velvet bed sits at the other end behind the door, dark marble ellipsoidal table and round stools to it's right and shelves of books to it's left.

The Elvenking did not mind that his son was in his private room at an inappropriate hour, for Legolas' reason would surely present itself soon.

And it did. Legolas stood just in front of the closed doors, watching his father put away the crown, "You're not seriously considering to keep the Dwarven Prince here," His watchful eyes following his father's nightly tasks of putting away strewn books, stripping his gown and changing into a ruffle-collared white blouse. Thranduil was clearly disregarding Legolas' presence as he calmly sat on one of the marble stools, bending to unlace his knee-high boots. "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?!" Legolas scolded.

Thranduil sighed, the laces on one shoe undone as he sat up, palms on his knees and looked towards Legolas standing at the door. "Would you have preferred that I put your battalion to good use then?"

Legolas was unprepared for the precipitous insult from his father. It stung his face red and he was abashed. He opened his mouth for a witty reply but none found it's way out. So he stood there, dumbfounded and utterly ashamed of wasting the realm's valuable resources. He pursed his lips and looked down, shaking his head, muttered a 'sorry.' and was about to turn to leave. He really felt that he had made a fool of himself, barging in here to question his father's actions.

"Legolas." The voice was affectionate and the tone was kind, and it made him stop in his tracks. He heard Thranduil sigh and turned his head, locking eyes with his father. "Do not doubt me, my son. My pleasantries were no farce. He will be treated well here if such is his decision. It shall be pronounced soon, come morning."

Such a promise should have stilled Legolas' innocent heart. However, It did not but the greenleaf kept his thoughts to himself. "Yes, my Lord." he answered and bowed respectfully before turning to leave hastily.

Thranduil watched his son leave with astute eyes. he glanced down at his laces and ran a hand over his silverblonde hair.

He shut his eyes and his voice was meek as he mumbled,  _"What am I doing?"_

There was no answer, except for the howling of the winds, as if threatening him.

.

Legolas walks quickly towards Thorin's residence as he contemplated how he should persuade the headstrong Prince that his bright idea was ill-advised. Legolas arrived but did not immediately knock on the door. His hand was raised, sure, but he breathed in and out several times, settling and overriding his decision again and again. This would not be the first nor last time that he had tried to go against his father's will. Or anyone's will, for that matter.

So Legolas knocked on the door, half-wishing that Thorin was sound asleep so that his indecisive thoughts could be put to rest. However, much to his disappointment, the door opened and he was met with a half-naked Thorin Oakenshield. The Dwarven Prince smiled widely when he saw who was at the door. He made way and gestured for the Mirkwood Prince to enter and closes it.

"What brings you here at this time of night?" Thorin questions as his eyes searched for a cloak to cover himself. This may or may not be a casual visit but he should still be a little presentable.

Thorin walked towards his bedside table and rummages through his chain mail and found himself his beloved fur-coat. Before he wears it, though, Legolas spoke. "It's fine, it's fine." referring to Thorin's naked top. The Dwarven Prince nods and puts the coat back on the table.

Thorin settles comfortable on the edge of the single bed, looking over at Legolas' worried expression. Thorin becomes concerned but still careful, "Surely this is not just a casual chit-chat visit, is it, Elvenprince?"

"No, no it isn't." Legolas answers and walks up and down before continuing, "Would you be leaving tomorrow?" He internally winced at how harsh that must have sounded but said no further.

Thorin snorts, "Quick to get rid of me, eh?"

Legolas quickly apologises for sounding rude and insists that it was not like that. Thorin laughs heartily, amused by how sensitive elves were. "You darlings need to lighten up!" Thorin leans back on his pillow but kept his feet off the bed as his iron boots were still on. "Anyway..." Thorin sounded lighthearted now, as if not a care in the world, "I have decided that I shall stay here until my grandfather returns what belongs to Thranduil. I mean, King Thranduil, of course." he smiles weakly at that thought. He does not know where his initial furor had gone but he was grateful to the stubborn honor that dwarves were born with. If not, the words would not have left the gates of his lips.

Legolas was not the type of rebel to criticize his own father but it seemed that this situation needed that, "My father is not as simple as you might feel he is. I fear that some unnecessary harm shall be upon you as long as you stay within his realm." Legolas strides towards Thorin and sits at the foot of the bed, looking intently into the other Prince's eyes, "You must leave while you can. Do not commit yourself for the dignity of your people."

Thorin chuckled and Legolas gave him a puzzled look. "I may be young and have not seen much. But, this I know, Prince Legolas. My ancestors were thieves, my people still are. But, these things will change when I am king for I am not like my grandfather." Thorin leans forward and puts a reassuring hand on Legolas' shoulders and squeezes it, "Do not be concerned of my welfare, Greenleaf. I've heard bad stories about the Elvenking. But I must say, our race has always shown prejudice towards elves." Thorin smiles and leans back. "I do not know what had gotten to my grandfather then. But in our house, family runs deeper than gold or mithril. He must had been ill or senile. He will trade the heirloom for me if enough time passes. All will be well, Legolas." Thorin beamed with confidence as he made mention of his family.

Legolas saw that it was already impossible to change Thorin's mind. He nodded and rested his thoughts on the count that Thorin need not stay in the Woodland realm for too long. "Alright, then." he bows his head slightly, "I shall bade you good night, now." Legolas stands to leave.

"Are all elves as fair as you?"

Legolas was a little stunned by that question. It was his father that showed generosity towards Thorin and not him, wasn't it? Legolas had no right answer for that question. He could only smile and say, "I am my father's son." and he left the room thereafter.

The visit from the Elvenprince left Thorin much conflicted and he could not sleep. He stood at his windows, grateful that his room faced the backyards and he could see that there were indeed vines below and wondered if he will ever have the chance of growing some himself. A change from the rugged heat of the Mountain felt favorable to him.

Then, he heard distant footsteps from below and he tried to strain his eyes to who was coming at such a dark hour. He tried to make out the boots but they were just a normal dark color. His eyes slowly traveled up and he saw - A white blouse, red cloak and silverblonde hair. And seated atop the Elvenking's head was a different crown, a rather simple braided chain. Thorin was amused, what business did Thranduil have so late?

He watched as Thranduil strolled along the first of the white grape vines, his hands caressing them. Then, he stopped at looked up to the moon. Thorin was mesmerized and he grinned unknowingly as he eyed the Elvenking. Thranduil, without his usual rigid quality, looked absolutely alluring and exquisite.

Thorin feels like he might just fall in love with him.

The Dwarven Prince suddenly straightened himself and shook his head, What foolish thoughts! He sighed and closed his windows as softly as his robust arms could manage. He blew off the lights from the candles in his room and tucked himself to bed.

Unbeknownst to him was the fact that the Elvenking had known his presence from the start, and had looked to his windows, with wistful eyes that yearned for company.


	5. Reinforcements and Decimations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter.
> 
> They have breakfast and talk, Legolas notices a change in his father.

**TA 2769**  


 

_Thranduil murmured in his sleep as he felt a soft hand caress his hairline. He tried to turn away but the hand followed him, and a chuckle too. The voice was silky and familiar. The Elvenking contemplated dreamily, his soul was spent since the dispute with the queen and he really does not want to wake up right now._

_"Are you tired, my love?" The question came and Thranduil felt strange. He is sleeping so of course he is tired! Or was this a different affair? "Are you tired, my love?" it came again. Thranduil felt irritated now, who would dare rouse him? He was about to open his eyes but stopped short of it. There was a shadow over him, then a delicate kiss from familiar lips. Thranduil smiled and a warmth enveloped his being, his heart settled. "Find another worthy of your adoration, Thranduil."_

Fear rose in his heart, as if a part of his soul departed from him. His eyes opened rapidly and Thranduil instinctively shot out a hand to his left, but that side of the bed was empty. It has been empty for more than a millennium. He frowned and breathed in sharply, choking and coughing. Then was he aware of the presence in his room. He cleared his throat and calmed himself, "How long have you been standing there?"

Legolas leaned against the door, the tone of his father sharp, it must have been a bad night. "You should have been up two hours ago." He walked closer to get a better look, "What happened? You're sweating in the air-cool morning." Legolas asked, becoming increasingly concerned with the state of his father.

Thranduil gave a weak smile when he saw Legolas' worried expression, he waved a hand saying, "It is good with me. I had a dream I was not prepared for." Thranduil pushes his quilt away, "Come, we must prepare for the morning."

Legolas nodded, knowing full well what he meant.

.

.

The trio, along with a dozen guards and two elf-servants were savoring the first meal of the day in a garden not too far from the palace's vineyard. Thorin wore his original clothes without the chain mail, sat opposite Thranduil in his white blouse while Legolas was between them, wearing his usual ranger garb, without the weapons.

The spread was light and the meal was done after a short while.The Elvenking ordered for them to be left alone, so the guards and the servants departed from them. It was Thranduil who started first, "You have come to a conclusion, I believe?" he gestured at Thorin while taking a sip from his goblet. Ah, the wine flowing down his throat was a much welcomed sensation after the ambiguous dream.

Legolas felt slightly uncomfortable. His fledgling heart just could not contain the thought of his father kidnapping another for ransom. Legolas sniffed at that thought,  _'It's not kidnapping, not really._ ' But he felt it unfair, still. However, he remained silent.

Thorin fiddled with his now empty goblet, "Yes, I have. I shall stay here. Send word to my grandfather of this.... circumstance." He smiled.

Legolas cleared his throat as he found a fitting moment to walk away from the table. "I will see to it now." He stood up, lightning fast, but his father's hand stayed him.

Thranduil looked up to his standing son, eyes soft and the sun enhanced his disarming smile, "There is no haste, son. I will make the arrangements myself." His iron grip stayed as he looked back towards Thorin, "Such is only appropriate, don't you think?"

Thorin stiffened, his eyes darted between father and son, "Yes, yes.." He lifted the goblet only to put it down for he remembered it has been empty for quite awhile now.

Legolas sat back down slowly, slightly agitated but he swallowed his edginess, "Alright." He replied, rigidly.

As if on cue, if there was any cue, plates of fresh fruits were served. Thorin looked as the servants piled the spread on the round marble table,  _'Oh boy.._ ' he thought,  _'This is going to be a long one._ '

While Thranduil and Thorin crunched on the fruits and chatted on mindless things about the Dwarven Prince's commitment here, Legolas stared into space, the rumble in his heart unable to sheath itself. He did not pay any mind to their conversation, nor did he notice that his father was smiling candidly for the first time since the then Mirkwood Queen sailed. Legolas' head space was filled with anxiety for the worst for he knew his father better than anyone else. Things cannot be that simple. How could Thorin be so jovial about being held hostage? Was this really young naivety? Legolas felt Thorin's decision incomprehensible because he could not imagine himself being held in another place for too long without coming back home. He would miss his forest, his father and his surroundings.

The mention of hunting in the woods caught Legolas' attention. Also, his name was called.

"Legolas? How would you like to show our guest the efficiency of the bow? He seems to think the sword is all there is." His father queried.

Legolas' ears twitched and he was surprised at how playful and laid-back his father was at the thought of a stranger in his cherished and protected forest. Such was a stark contrast to this morning, when his father woke up in fear and sweat. Is this real?!

He looked to Thorin, "Yes, of course. The bow is an extraordinary piece of equipment." He added, albeit studying the other Prince, wondering what enchantment has he got his father under.

Thorin shifted uncomfortably under the inquisitive and curious stare of the Elvenprince. Thranduil noticed the slight change in his son's attitude. He looked at Legolas, frowning because his son was starring at their guest. He cleared his throat but Legolas still did not look away from the Dwarven Prince. There was a slight flare in Thranduil's heart, a budding flame. He does not know why but he felt very distressed at that moment.  _'Stop looking at him!_ ' he internally screamed.

The Elvenking stood up abruptly, startling Thorin into looking at him, "Good! You should start right away." He slapped a hand on Legolas' shoulder, "Show him to the training grounds. Parties are out on their duties, it is free."

With that, Thranduil smiled, turned to Thorin and bowed swiftly before walking away with nimble steps, afraid that the budding flame in his heart would grow into an all consuming blaze.


	6. The Lay of Ardor

**TA 2769**

 

Legolas hesitated leading Thorin to the general armory and weapons vault, for he was still a prince from another race. However, when Legolas thought back on the uplifted mood of his father by reason of the existence of this  _prince from another race_ , he felt it okay to let the Dwarven Prince into the room. Any other royalty in the history of Middle-earth would undoubtedly question Legolas' justification.

Legolas directed Thorin in front to an array of recurve long bows, sorted by height (5 to 6.5 feet) and in a dark brown color. They were newly arrived and hence had not been stored in the archery room yet.

"You may choose one that appeals to your eyes." Legolas smiled as he his fingers traced the spiral pattern at the belly of the bow, he had received these yesterday afternoon, prior to marching out and was pleased to speak with Haldir, the admirable marchwarden. "These are new arrivals from Lothlorien, crafted from mallorn wood."

Thorin nodded and chose one of 5.5 feet. He drew the string of the bow and grinned, "This will do."

.

.

.  


The pair were now at the training grounds for the archers of the Woodland realm. Legolas picked two quivers of arrows for their use and began testing Thorin's proficiency. It was not surprising that the Dwarven Prince had immense amount of strength and was able to draw the strings quite easily.

A watch balcony seated atop a wall south of them was occupied by a slender figure dressed in a black fitted caftan dress with a crown of red leaves and berries. He watched his son as he taught the Dwarven Prince the elven way to draw and arm an arrow swiftly. The Elvenking's icy blue orbs became jubilant, he leaned forward, shoulders bent and arms crossed against the balcony, his eyes focused on Thorin and his chuckles. He swallowed then turned his face to look away but he could not face away for long. There was a pull by an invisible chasm and his gaze fell upon the  _very young_  Prince again.

At that moment, his jubilant eyes soon became covetous.

Below, Legolas was not ignorant of his father's presence. The Elvenprince was hypersensitive to him, for his kin projected his desirous will with his eyes and Legolas could not shake away his nervousness. He distracted himself by competing with Thorin and found slight reassurance in his laid back demeanor, for it rivaled the intense disposition of his father.

Though Legolas was unconvinced of his deductions, he was not mindless to the welcomed change in his father's posture. Thranduil has not been contented in a  _very long time._

Legolas suspects the Elvenking's amusement may be short lived, albeit he still holds on to the hope that Thranduil would persist his new found joy.

Shifting his mind back to the results of their brief competition, Legolas found that the Dwarven Prince was not only tall and strong, he was a fast learner, too. He clapped Thorin's shoulders and beamed at his achievement, he then looked up to his father for a slight moment, noticing the hungry eyes. Legolas coughed, "I shall leave and fetch us some water. I apologise that the need for refreshment has slipped my mind." He may have had hesitation but he was also very excited for new companionship. For a long while now, these fields had only been occupied by him, training for nothing in the early mornings. Legolas was not needed in morning patrols but needed to conserve his energy for errands of a prince (like leading a battalion as an escort) and night scouts, for his eyes were of a rare kind, the kind that could see exceedingly well in darkness, much like his father.

"Alright!" Thorin said cheerfully as he took Legolas' bow and their quivers to a nearby hut. He placed them carefully on the dark marble table and trotted to the yew board to retrieve the fired arrows. He sat at the table, using his coat to wipe off minuscule amounts of dirt on the used arrows. He glanced to his left, saw an unoccupied balcony and felt a pang in his heart, unsure what feeling it was supposed to be. He just  _knew_  that the balcony - and his heart -  was supposed to be occupied by something.  _Someone_.

Thorin rolled his eyes and shook his head. This is not his country, he should be more self-aware instead of waiting for something that would not come. He stood up and forced a smile as Legolas came running back with a large decanter of water. Before Thorin could get a hold of it, though, Legolas smiled and halted him. The Elvenprince reached into his ranger garb and revealed a tiny olive-colored pouch. Thorin eyed the pouch suspiciously while Legolas crushed the pouch before opening it and pouring the contents - green leaves - into the decanter.

The smell was unmistakable, Thorin smiled and said, "Nettles."

Legolas was fairly surprised that Thorin had any clue about the remedies of nature. "Yes. They replenish the constitution and are quick to mature."

Thorin nodded but thought for awhile. "But it is autumn...? And the woods have not been suitable for growing or gathering since the spread of darkness across the lands. How?"

Legolas winked, "Aside from a vineyard of white grapes, the Woodland realm has other sorts of resources." Legolas announced proudly, his eyes shining with self-confidence. "We have an immense garden, growing assorted plants and trees. In it, one can find a spacious hothouse, specifically for out of season but essential essences."

Thorin nodded and understood, "Like nettles!"

They drank and emptied the decanter before packing and leaving the vicinity, aerial eyes tracing the Dwarven Prince's heavy steps.

.

.

.  


It was late noon when the Elvenprince left for a scouts conference, leaving Thorin outside the armory with vague instructions.  _"You may wander the halls._ " he had said.  _"Do not call upon my father at this time._ " he mentioned as well. Thorin chuckled to himself as he walked back towards his chambers, who would ever risk disturbing the Elvenking?

Thorin took the long way towards his room, avoiding the throne level as best as he could, he did not want to listen in on any court matters by accident and have his head separated from his shoulders. He was only a guest (or hostage) and not a spy. Oh, the golds Thror would pay for any intelligence on the thorn in the woods.

His room was spacious and well furnished, completed with a private bath chamber. When Thorin closed the heavy elven doors, he could not help but blink at the transformation to his bed. The pillow and blanket were nicely folded (and probably washed) atop each other. The sheets were changed from a dull green to a rich velvet color. At the foot of the bed, atop it, a few meters from Thorin, laid a set of fresh garment on the left and a tray of sustenance on the right. There was also a decanter of juice on the floor below it.

Thorin was first surprised and then delighted. There was a flutter of warmth in his heart for never had anyone, in his short twenty-three years of prince-ness, put so much consideration to his comfort. Thorin grinned and went forward, first to check what clothing were prepared for him. He moved the tray and decanter onto the table in the corner and went back to the bed. He unfolded the garments and found these: A long, loose and sleeveless sea-blue tunic with a thick hood, raven black wanderer pants and a fitted olive-green doublet. On closer inspection, the hood of the long tunic was trimmed with gold and the doublet, gold knots and gold fastens.

Thorin felt at home and he smiled for the umpteenth time since he arrived in Mirkwood. These were the colors of the Silvan elves, of the Blue Mountains and of the Woodland realm. And the gold trimmings.... These were definitely fashioned with Elven regality in mind. Thorin felt a little apprehensive changing into these garments. Was this an elfmaiden's idea of a joke? To parade a Dwarven Prince in Elven royal garments? Did Thranduil endorse these?!

Still, it would be impolite to ignore these clothing. He thought of the respect he had seen from the citizens of Mirkwood towards their King, surely this was no farce. Adding to that fact was the scent of mint and a whiff of gardenia proceeding from the vestments. These were recently washed. Who would go through all that trouble just to see his head roll?  _'Many_ ', he thinks, but proceeded to don the garments anyway.

He stripped and wore the raven black wanderer pants first. They were a right fit and he could feel the power and vigor in the robust material, perfect for perilous travels and wild expeditions. Then, he donned the sea-blue sleeveless over tunic that reaches to just an inch before his knees. They were light and flexible, the thick hood sat comfortably on his back, he could see the gold trim from the corner of his eyes. Finally, he wore and fastened the knots of the olive-green doublet. The doublet was of a comfortable thickness and secure. It had an elastic feel to it, he felt like he could somersault in these, but he wasn't going to try.

He looked himself over in a long mirror beside his now velvet bed. He did not look as thick or wide as he did in his dwarven coat, breech and mail undershirt. He felt just a tad smaller and a little defenseless. However, he felt lighter and more agile in these. Though he was not used to this appearance, it would have to do, for he was in another's territory now and should adhere to their rules and standards. Surely, he should not go prancing around in Dwarven royal armor least an arrow or a volley of them try to test his metal. He shivered at that thought. A death by arrows is no honorable death for a Dwarven Prince.

.  


Legolas debriefs a dozen of scout teams and puts away the tactical parchments. Every week, he leads a dozen team of ten scouts per group into Mirkwood for patrol and training purposes before they are fit to undertake out-of-realm missions. 

Tonight, in exactly six hours from now, he would lead the teams into the woodlands to start their advance trap tactics course, which would run three times a week, for twelve weeks. For other days, Legolas lead veteran rangers on patrols but today was the day he began training the recruits.

He smiled with pride and decided that a late lunch with the Dwarven Prince was at hand. As he stepped out of the meeting hall, his father was there.

He nodded, acknowledging the King. "Father."

Thranduil nodded as well, "The fate of their futures rests upon your teachings tonight, son." His eyes gleaming with mischief.

Legolas laughed heartily, "You jests, father!"

"I reckon that you have not eaten. Come," Thranduil gestures for Legolas to follow.

"You go on ahead, father. I will find Thorin to join us, he might be resting in-"

"No, he is having his meal in private." Thranduil's voice sounded smaller and he hopes that Legolas would not question this particular knowledge of his.

Legolas rose an eyebrow at the oddity. Didn't his father enjoy Thorin's company? Why then did he allow the Dwarven Prince to not dine with them? But he decides to let it go. "I see. It is only natural." Legolas nods, "Allow me to change into a fresh set of garment for tonight's activities, then."

Thranduil nodded and went on ahead.

.

.  


Legolas straightens his fresh ranger uniform as he steps out of his chambers. Just then, the commander of the intelligence assembly, Eiron, walked down the halls. He commands a hand-select team of fifteen veteran scouts who serve as immediate, urgent or diplomatic messengers. They only act and report to the Elvenking and no one else. However, a little question would not hurt. Legolas smiled and the commander took it as his cue that the Elvenprince had some business with him.

Eiron stopped and bowed respectfully, "My Lord."

"Commander, when can we expect our message to Erebor be received by the Dwarven race?" Legolas asked without hesitation.

Eiron narrowed his eyes for a brief moment and Legolas noticed and picked up on the signal - The commander had no idea what he was talking about.

Whatever this was, Eiron chose a routine reply, "My Lord, I do not have leave to speak of such matters outside the purview of the King." with that, Eiron bowed and walked away swiftly.

Legolas pursed his lips. Just what is going on with his father?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References for this chapter:  
> Nettles: http://www.heirloom-organics.com/guide/va/guidetogrowingnettle.html  
> Mint and Gardenia: http://faq.gardenweb.com/faq/lists/shrubs/2002043952014567.html
> 
> It's like 5:20am now and I have not slept. If there are any mistakes in this chapter, please do tell! Hope you enjoyed, thanks!


	7. Of Beren and Luthien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas and Thranduil share a moment. Legolas wants daddy to get his shit together so he approaches Thorin himself, playing the matchmaker.
> 
> There will be a consummation scene. You may need tissues.

**TA 2769**

 

 

Legolas, dispirited and hesitant, approached his father at one of the many marble tables, aside the fenced entrance to the Woodland realm's garden.

How should he proceed with his question?  _'Father, why did you not make haste the word to Erebor?_ ' or  _'Father, do you esteem the Dwarven Prince so much so that you would delay his departure?_ ' or  _'Father, do you plan to execute Thorin as an example to his kinsmen?_ ' Either of these openings sounded much too aggressive. What kind of fondness or animosity does his father feel towards or against Thorin? What has spurred such indecisiveness in the always prudent Elvenking?

"Legolas, why are you just standing there?" Thranduil asks aloud and places his goblet beside his plate.

"Ah.." Legolas stutters, his father's voice surprised him. He composes himself and smiles politely. "My apologies, my mind has been... heavy as of late." He admits but does not dive into the reason, hoping that his father would volunteer a question.

But, that does not come. Thranduil merely nods and motions for his son to sit opposite of him. It was late noon, the skies a hue of orange, a light wind traverses the gardens, bringing the aroma of the flora towards their table.

Thranduil had since changed out of his casual garments. He now wore a full length dominion coat adorned with olive vine patterns on a sea of raven-black feather tapestry. A black velvet collar extends just a few inches up his neck from the coat. The buttons that fasten the coat were golden, but the top two were not secured together, making a V shape while a smooth line of gold studs descend down the front, stopping an inch above his waist. The rest of the coat falls the sides of his legs, revealing the dark maroon hosen with matching velvet vine embroidery. What was surprising, though, Legolas notices, that his father was wearing black plated knee-high boots, as if he was going to a battle after lunch.

Legolas does not say anything as he sat across from his father, he distracts himself from the imminent conversation that he hopes he will have by following the motions of two elfservants who brought in his portion of the food and filled his goblet. He glances at his father's plate and acknowledges that his father had already started before he arrived. "You're not going to finish that?" Legolas asks. He also noticed that the decanter of wine on the table was almost drained. Another elfservant replaces that decanter with a new one, filled to the brim and sure enough, his father reaches for it and replenishes his own goblet.

Legolas narrows his eyes but hid his disapproval by digging into his food. This, of course, did not escape the perceptive Elvenking.

Thranduil chuckles, shaking his head at his son's reaction, causing Legolas to look up to him with yet another frown. "What?" his son asks, food obviously still in his mouth.

Thranduil did not answer. He smiled, eyes soften and looked at his son. Surely, there were things in his eyes now that were worth more than any gems the gold in Erebor could buy. He could let it go, let it all go, couldn't he?

"You are above your manners, aren't you?" Thranduil joked.

Legolas rolled his eyes playfully and continued eating. "Are you above wine, father?"

Thranduil took another sip and smirked, "No. No, I'm not."

"Hmph." In all honesty, Legolas was nervous about discussing Thorin's.. situation with his father. He could not read nor guess his father's true intentions for he was hot and then cold towards the Dwarven Prince. Was his father too afraid of that attachment? Or was there something else planned? And, how is the stubborn King Thror feeling right now, without any news of his grandson?

Legolas swallowed the last morsel of food and signaled elfservants to clear the table and bring a plate of fruit. Soon, the plates were cleared and replaced with a bowl of assorted fruits, the decanter of win was also taken away, much to the disapproval of Thranduil. The Elvenking watched in horror as a jug of warm tea took it's place.

Legolas tried to hide his laugh so he cleared his throat and stood up, catching the attention of their guards and servants. He rose his voice, "Leave us now and take rest." The guards and servants bowed respectfully before striding away swiftly, leaving the King and the Prince to their privacy.

Legolas sat back down and looked at his father with stern eyes. If there were any doubts left in him, he had cast it all away with that order. "Father, I itch to discuss a matter with you."

Thranduil took a slice of peach and popped it casually into his mouth, chewing, "Go on." he nodded, chewing again and then swallowed. "What has gotten my son into such an edgy mood this afternoon?" Thranduil reached for another slice of peach but stopped short of it, nearly choking on his saliva when he heard the next word.

"Thorin."

Thranduil sighed, hand still in mid air as he put them down, disregarding the fruit for now. "I believe the truth should be as clear as the light of the sun between you and me..." He looked to Legolas, seeing a king of hope in there that would soon be crushed. "But this you cannot meddle with, Legolas."

And that hope vanished soon enough. Legolas narrowed his eyes, he said the next words furiously, "Adar! When did you start keeping secrets from me?! Your own kin! Your own son!" and his fist slammed on the marble table as hard as he could. He was closed to tears what with all these pent up emotions and wordless hesitations.

The Elvenking was not used to such disrespect in his halls, especially not from his own son. His pride was wounded. He stood up abruptly, "Oh, don't be dramatic!" Thranduil turned away, his unwillingness to speak of the matter was apparent. "I've always kept some things hidden from you. Do not act like you aren't aware of it!" and started to walk away from the garden.

There were no cards that Legolas could play. All he could do now was let his tears fall, a hand on the bridge of his nose as he began to regret his outburst. Twice now he has questioned his father and twice now he has failed.

Thranduil's ears twitched as they picked up on the muffled sobs from his son. He turned back, worried, "Legolas..?" He saw the weeping state of his son and he ran back towards him, grabbing his son's sides with his hands and knelt down. "Legolas, why?" he asked as he looked up at his son's once fair face now wrought with tears and anguish.

Legolas choked, his eyes unable to open, "I-" he tried to stop his tears but he couldn't. "I.... c-can't s-stop..." And he kept sobbing and sobbing. He felt his father's face in his stomach, Thranduil hugged him as tightly as he could. Legolas was unsure why he could not stop crying.

Oh.

But he does.

It was as if, the bond between father and son was so strong that he could feel his father's sorrow flowing through him, his father's memories reminding him to steer clear of love or anything remotely connected to it. There was  _something_  in his father that wanted to reach out and attach itself to Thorin, Legolas could feel it every time his father looked or talked to the Dwarven Prince. Legolas could also feel that  _something_  recoil and another darker feeling, full of sorrow, surfaced.

Yes... That was the  _thing_  that made Legolas feel uneasy about this whole situation. That dark sorrow that anchored his father to the past also affected him. And in that moment, Thranduil understood that.

"What does it matter?" Thranduil asked. He stood up, one hand on Legolas' shoulder and another caressing his hair. "What does it matter?" He asked again, this time his voice going softer, as if he had given up. "I have you." Thranduil bent to kiss the hair of his son, a single tear fell down his left eye. Thorin was not his. They were not like Beren and Luthien.

They could never be Beren and Luthien.

 

-

When Thorin finished his meal and read through the first page of a random tome he found -strategically placed below the pile of his new garments - there was a knock on the door. So, he put the book down and allowed his visitors to enter. It was only an elfservant coming to take the tray away. And then there was Legolas standing at his door.

The elfservant had stared at Thorin's appearance before hurrying along, smiling sheepishly. Thorin followed the steps of the elfservant as he exited to greet Legolas. A distraught looking Legolas.

Thorin raised his eyebrows but waited for the Elvenprince to open.

And he did, albeit somberly, "Would you care to seek my father in the Woodland gardens? He has grown very fond of you. He would appreciate your presence." And then the Elvenprince bowed and walked away swiftly, presumably surveying the state of the forest for tonight's operation.

Thorin stood there in front of his room, doors already closed, blinking and processing what Legolas had just informed him and he contemplated finding Thranduil. He was part curious and part nervous, but he went anyway.

 

-

 

Sure enough, he found Thranduil at one of the marble tables in front of the fenced gardens, sipping tea with an expressionless face. Was he waiting for Thorin all this time? Thorin stood aside, watching the Elvenking's movements silently. Of course, the dominion coat that adorned Thranduil's lithe and slender body did not go unnoticed and Thorin took this opportunity - and his own sweet time - to marvel at Thranduil's ethereal form, unknowingly lick his lips at times.

The sound of metal clashing with stone surprised the Dwarven Prince and pulled him out of his captivation. Shaking his head to compose himself, he cleared his throat so as to not startle the Elvenking of his presence. "Did the tea offend you in anyway?" He smiled and fixed his gaze upon Thranduil's now irritated face.

Thranduil reached down to pick up the goblet and set it back, now empty, on the table. His eyes followed Thorin's form as he sat down opposite of him, The Elvenking's countenance lifted and he smiled widely, his eyes rich with adoration, "Our colors suit you." He stated simply, surprisingly lost for words.

Thorin could only stare at Thranduil's change of emotion with wide eyes and a half-opened mouth. Was Thranduil really that fond of him? At that thought, a minuscule scant of hope clasped at Thorin's heart, pumping desire and excitement through his veins. His awe turned into delight. He, too, returned the smile, "I thank you." He nodded. Though he was unsure if the Elvenking had a direct hand in his care, he decided to compliment him anyway, for he now loved him so. "You are very thoughtful, Thranduil."

"I.. I-" Thranduil lost himself for awhile there. He had not heard of such candid praise in a long time directed to him. "T-Thank you. No doubt, many will disagree with that notion. And rightly so."

Thorin was amused by Thranduil's response, which confirmed Legolas' word and thus further fueled his veins with hope and a new sensation; A dash of lust. "Is that so... Why? Are you selective?" Thorin leaned closer, his arms crossed on the table, and he smirked. He was young, way young, but not oblivious to his own charm.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes but his lips curled into a smile. Oh yes, he would play this game of seduction with this charming and beautiful prince in front of him. With his head dazed with new found fervor, Thranduil leaned his head on his fist, gazing dreamily at Thorin and licked his lips indecently, the distance between them now excruciatingly compact. He could smell Thorin's musk mixed with the mint from his clothes, the combination drove his elven senses mad, he could almost faint! "I am." was all he could manage in reply.

Thorin could feel Thranduil's heated breaths on the hairs of his arm, they were so close. So close... The yearning to touch Thranduil burned at his fingertips. He swallowed, still not that ready but this moment was do or die!

So Thorin, slowly and as delicately as he could, freed his arm and raised his fingers to touch Thranduil's countenance. The cool air of the early evening and the warmth of Thorin's touch contrasted well against Thranduil's skin. The pair could feel that their cravings electrified the air, wild energy cascading from their bodies. What happened next was a decision born from childlike innocence and stainless confidence as Thorin snaked his hand within the silver-blonde hair, pulling the Elvenking towards himself. Their lips locked and their face flushed from the fulfillment.

Fueled by a mix of heartache and frenzy, they tumbled into Thranduil's chambers, kissing and seizing whatever skin they could find of each other. The grunted and got rid of their coverings, a dominion coat thrown at the ellipsoidal table, a gold-trimmed doublet on the ground, a mix hue of black and maroon on a pile somewhere long forgotten. They were naked, breathless and immensely hard.

And they were not ashamed. Thorin pushed Thranduil down on the bed, lips crushing together ferociously. Their members collided and glazed each one in another's juice. Thorin broke the kiss to the disappointment of Thranduil, who looked at him questioningly. With ragged breaths, "I.. I want you." Thranduil smiled widely and kissed Thorin again before searching for a form of lubrication.

The Dwarven Prince laid face down on the velvet bed, rubbing his thick cock and wiggles his back playfully. The Elvenking laughs, breathes out and rubs a dash of sleek elven oil on his thick shaft, his mouth open and he shuddered, his whole being filled with immense pleasure.

He squeezes Thorin's back and eases himself into the Prince. "... hah..." he pants as he begins to move.

Thorin breathes heavily into the sheets as he feels the sensual weight plunging into him. He feels Thranduil shift closer to him, the Elvenking's breath just behind his ears.

"Thorin..." Thranduil purrs and smirks as he pulls out slowly and then slams himself back down.

Thorin closes his eyes painfully, "Ah!! Tsk..." but he smiles as Thranduil plants soft kisses on his shoulders. The Elvenking breathes in the scent of the Prince and revels in this heat that was theirs, he loses himself, all while fuzzy thoughts surfaced, and he had to slow down his movements, distracted. A past that was not fitting for a king, his soul suddenly remembered an old memory. Why was it that he thought of his past at this moment, though? Ah, the familiarity of it all was not surprising.

He remembered the first time he had met her, a Noldor wanting to  _'see the lands_ ', before he followed his father into the Battle of Dagorlad. There was something wild about her, a long way from home but her heart always remained with Rivendell and her Noldorin roots. She was intrigued by the stories of Kinslaying and had even sang in Quenya when she was quietly reading in his chambers soon after they met. Though he was bothered and had half a mind to treat her as an enemy, young Thranduil was nevertheless absorbed in her audacious antics. Oropher had staunchly dismissed Thranduil's request to wed her because she soon became infamous for her injudicious irresponsibility. But he still did, fourteen moons before his father would fall.

And now here he is, in bed with the  _enemy_. Thranduil's heart ached peculiarly as he soaked in the stark familiarity of the situation.

He had a falling out with the then Queen of the Wood-elves, a few years after Legolas was born, sometime during the Watchful Peace. She was whispering songs in Quenya, songs of Kinslaying and of the House of Feanor to the babe. His father was right, she was injudicious still, and wild like fire. But, he loved her so.

Harsh words were exchanged then. Oh, how his pride and bitter words had paved the way for her to sail.

But oh, how he loved the things that burned him, the things that shone so brightly and majestically.

"Thranduil...?" A rough voice pulled the Elvenking back into the present.

Thranduil smiled and pressed his lips into Thorin's back.  _"Never again..._ " He whispered softly, almost inaudible. Right then, he silently pledged that he would not make the same shattering mistake again.

They lost themselves in passion and in climax that evening.  
  


.

.

.

 

The intimate experience left the pair of lovers satisfied and they began to get dressed for dinner.

Thranduil reached for his dominion coat strewn on the table. He wore it but his eyes could not tear away from the tall build of the Dwarven Prince. He smirked and strode to the foot of his bed, embracing the Prince from behind.

"Wha-" Thorin uttered, laughing softly. He was in the middle of fastening his black wanderer pants when he felt a sudden weight pushing him from the back. He buttoned his pants and leaned back into the warmth of Thranduil's body. The evening turned into night and the chill set in by the caves were accumulating, how did the Elf keep his body temperature? Must be magic, Thorin thought.

There was a breath and then a soft question, like a melody, "Are you happy? With me?" Thranduil asked as he rested his head on Thorin's shoulders.

Thorin could see the long locks of silver-blonde hair beside his left eye, he smiled and turned his cheek to kiss the pointy ear of the Elvenking, "Yes. Yes, very much so."

Thranduil snuggled against Thorin and hugged him tighter. Thorin only smiled and waited for another question. But what came, was not what he had expected.

"Then would you stay?" Thranduil's voice was scared, soft and meek as though if he was any louder, Thorin might run away.

"I.." Thorin smiled, "When my kinsmen come with your due, surely I must leave with them. But I will not let this end here." Thorin turned to face Thranduil, cupping the fair face of the Elvenking,  _his Elvenking_ , "We can meet in Dale or in the gardens." He kissed Thranduil lightly on the lips, "I can have my men commission a boat and we can-"

Thranduil placed one finger on Thorin's mouth to shut his ramblings. This naive princeling, always quick to promise his heart, so rash. They were both of high born, surely they would not be able to see each other anymore should Thorin leave the confines of the Woodland realm. Even if it were not so, the wait would be unbearable and Thranduil's elven heart had withstood more than  _6000_  years of heartbreak and uncertainty. "They... They will not be coming." he whispered, voice strained with guilt.

Thorin frowned, "What?" That was not possible! "Is... Is that what my grandfather said? That old- mm.." Thorin's anger was appeased when soft lips met his in a warm and gentle kiss.

Thranduil looked concerned and hesitant as he pulled Thorin to sit with him at the foot of the bed. "I... I didn't. I didn't send word of your circumstance here."

"What?!" Thorin pushed him away and stood up abruptly, anger and feelings of betrayal rising in his chest, " _ **You liar!**_ " he shouted and breathed heavily. He shook his head and was about to leave.

Thranduil stood up and grabbed Thorin's hand, "Wait! No, no it's not like that! I never wanted to trade you for  _anything_  from the start!" Thranduil reasoned desperately.

"But you said-"

"I know what I said! I said it only because I... I did not want Legolas to hasten your imminent departure..." Emotions running high, Thranduil looked down at his feet, blinking a few tears down, feeling a mix of regret and fear of losing Thorin.

Thorin began to understand Thranduil's intentions and he sighed. He heard the chokes of the Elf king. "Thranduil..." he whispered, "Come here you." Thorin one handedly pulled Thranduil's bowed head towards his chest and they sat down together. "I love you. I love you so." He said. "We will meet again soon." He promised.

"I.. I love you, too." but this confession was filled with sorrow and tears. Thranduil refused to face Thorin as he hugged the prince tighter, his tears soaking Thorin's naked chest. "Stay." The Elf king clawed at Thorin's back, but not drawing blood. There were no suitable word to convey the deep sadness and melancholy he was feeling so he could only try and show it by his actions. "Stay. Please."

He knew, of course, since day one, that Thorin would have to return to his people. Still, nothing could have prepared his heart for the deep love and sorrow that he now felt for the Dwarven Prince.

Thorin kissed the silver-blonde hair of the crying mess, a tear fell down his eyes as he said, "I can't, not now." He pulled Thranduil to sit up with much effort, kissed him one last time and promised, "We will meet again."

There was no dinner that night.

> _Do you remember the many things_  
>  _That we lost on that fateful day?_  
>  _Some how I forgot them long ago_
> 
> _When night arrived we abandoned courage_  
>  _And got lost on our way_  
>  _And we found ourselves unable to_  
>  _Find a way back home_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue will be the last chapter. Blockquote: English Lyrics of "Toumei Datta Sekai - Naruto Shippuuden 7th OP" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ckQay4o2Y8o
> 
> *Thorin will be revived in the epilogue, there may or may not be a sequel planned for their reunion.*
> 
> I ordered Tolkien's Middle-Earth books and would like to read them as soon as they arrive (esp. Silmarillion and Hobbit among others), so I will take a break from posting until then. More reading, less writing :).


	8. Epilogue

**TA 2769**

 

 

It had been months and nearing the end of the year but there were no letters nor visits from Thorin since he had left the crying arms of Thranduil.

As soon as he had returned to Erebor, he was swarmed with, not questions of his disappearance, but errands and duties to fulfill as the new 'Leader' of the mountain, a hasty title set upon himself by Thrain, his father. Balin had very courteously bowed and slapped him on the back with a "Glad you're back, lad. There's much to do." and that was it. There were no celebrations for the return of the Prince nor were there any concerns or worries from his elders to him. He did not even get dinner his first day back. To say he was shocked was an understatement. With emotions still running high from - what he had hoped - the temporary separation between him and Thranduil, he felt utterly bitter and heartbroken. And right there, in the coldness of his kin, he missed Thranduil's attention and care towards him.

He did not learn much nor did the council tell him much. All he knew was that Thror's sickness of the mind had worsened and Thrain had taken up a new mantle of taking care of the old king, passing the mantle of leadership to Thorin.

Work upon work was thrust upon his young shoulders. He had no time to cry, no time to mourn his loss and no time to soften himself. The sake of his realm and his people were on his hands now. He did, of course, wanted to at least send a message by bird to Thranduil. But it was always sidelined by his duties. And whenever he did manage to get down to do it, there was always training and learning pulling him away from penning down his thoughts. Love or kinship had gone away in the darkness of these lands, he thought.

The letters which he wrote - and did not tear - never got sent.

 

-

 

And so it was, that when Smaug took Erebor in all it's glory, Thranduil led his army there, half of him wanted to aid the dwarves and the other half of him... Well, that half of him did it on a whim, really.

He stopped at the peak of the plateau, watching Durin's Folk flee the mountain - the mountain that was still smoking and hot with fire, it's heat rivaled the cool air of the autumn morning. This... This was no ordinary dragon. A fire drake, from the north, the last great dragon of it's kind.

Thranduil halted his elk and his Elven army, that's when he saw  _him_. He saw him crying out for his help. The same  _him_  who betrayed his consent and never looked back.

He hesitated.

He pitted the lives of his kin against the fleeting hope of reconciliation and right then, when he turned away from the exiles, when he turned away from Thorin, he knew the one truth, anchored in his heart, that the tale of Beren and Luthien were not theirs to echo.

That day, lives were not the only thing that was reduced to ashes.  
  


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.

.

**TA 2941 - End of the Battle**

 

_Bilbo Baggins made way for Dain and his men to say their goodbyes to their King. He left them quietly to their sorrows._

_Thranduil watched the gathering from a distance before he turned his back from the overwhelming sadness to recall his host back to Mirkwood. He, too, wished he were there with **him**._

_An eagle was soaring overhead where Dain and a few of his men who with them was a heavy casket, were gathering around the body of Thorin. Aboard it was Radagast the Brown. It wasn't very long since the King's death and Radagast thought that he could his some of the Miruvor he was given when he brought the message to Lady Galadriel at Rivendell._

_He landed his eagle, albeit ungracefully, behind the party. But, Dain paid him no mind as his whole being was clouded with anguish. Radagast cleared his throat, drawing attention. "L-Let me attend to him." he stuttered._

_" **He's dead!!!** " Dain shouts, refusing to leave his relative's body. "Leave me be... Leave us be!" But his men, little as they may be, still wanted to be by their King's side. "Leave! And... And recall the army. P..PPrepare the funeral.... Oh Gods..." The men took their leave, weeping. Dain grabbed the armor of Thorin, "Brother, you will be honored. I wish peace, wherever you may be."_

_Radagast ventured a few brave steps. He gently pulled Dain's shoulders away while the Lord looked at him, confused and dumbfounded, but also with a little hope. Dain shifted awkwardly away as he was kneeling this whole time._

_The wizard held his staff towards Thorin's body with both his hands as if the staff was stone laden and chanted an incantation. The winds began to gather around the body from all sides. Dain shifted away immediately and the eagle bowed it's head in respect of what was to come. Radagast called upon the mighty powers of the Valar and pleaded to Yavanna so that he may restore the constitution and conscience of the King under the Mountain. The winds converged upon the stone sitting on his staff. Then, a weak light flowed from the staff unto the chest of Thorin Oakenshield. Radagast smiled and slowly put his staff away. The ball of light sat on Thorin's chest, rotating, as if calculating the exact rubrics to bring this body back to it's glory._

_Radagast lifted his palms just above the light, mentally coaxing it to enter the King's body. The light obeyed._

_Dain was amazed by this sight and the hope in his heart that his relative could be alive only grew._

_The first few signs of life was almost immediate. As soon as the light settled in Thorin, blood rapidly rushed through his anatomy. His fingers, foot and eyes twitched, as if shocked by lightning. Thorin's eyes shot open as he breathed in harshly, rolling onto his sides, coughing out black blood. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at his surroundings. Radagast, an eagle, and.... Dain. A weak smile grew into a wide grin, as he thanked the wizard hastily, feeling so excited that he wanted to rush to and hug his relative. Thorin tried to sit up and as he did, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, his energy suddenly drained, "Urghhh!!!!" he winced._

_Radagast shot a hand out to stable the King, "You have only just came back to the realm of the living, take it easy!" Radagast reached into his clothes and brought out a carafe of pinkish liquid. "This is Miruvor, made by the elves, it will give you strength."_

_Thorin gagged but there was no more black blood in him. "All of it?"_

_" **All of it.** " Radagast insisted and Thorin downed the whole drink._

_Dain smiled widely as he stood and watched the King, alive and well. "I must bring this news to all of Middle-Earth! The King is back!"_

_Thorin coughed and held up a hand to stop Dain's excitement, "No." he swallowed one last sliver of the Miruvor, "I shall stand by my last words."_

_Upon hearing that, Dain's countenance fell. "You can't be serious!"_

_"But I am." Thorin stated with utmost resolution. "The affairs of this world has suffered greatly under my council, I shall leave it. Make no news of my revival and hold the funeral. Build me a tomb worthy of me, brother."_

_._

_._

_._

**TA 2944 - Present**

"You've been in there for two whole days! Does your contrition know no bound?! Someone could have seen you!" Bilbo scolded as Thranduil came nearer to the boat. Bilbo sighed and shook his head angrily, "How did it open? The door!"

Thranduil stepped into the boat, wiping his face. "I... do not know."

"That's weird." Bilbo thought for a moment before steering the boat. "Where's your sword?" He asked when he realized that the sword belt was now... just a belt.

Thranduil looked down at his empty belt, a fond smile playing on his lips, "It is where it should be."

Bilbo nodded, understanding. He looked back at Thranduil, the smile gone, his mood changed rather quickly. He at the head of the boat, looking past Bilbo, into nothingness. His mouth was in a downward curl, his eyes were sore and he spotted redness on the cheeks. He had been crying in there, Bilbo concluded. He looked away, unable to stand the sight. This was the first time he had ferried them back to Mirkwood in broad daylight. The visit was usually short, a few hours and they would be under the cover of darkness and Bilbo would not see whatever the Elvenking's state was.

The light of the sun seemed to enhance everything. Especially the silence that grew between them. Uncomfortable, Bilbo dared to ask, "Thranduil... Why do you.... Why do you torment yourself year after year?"

Thranduil looked to Bilbo from his daze, the light hurting his sore eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

 

_There was no hope of reconciliation now, is there?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!
> 
> Currently, I wish to read my Tolkien books so writing will take a backseat. I have ideas for an AU, though. There may or may not be a sequel to this story because I have not thought of a plot for it yet.


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